Evolution
by Flightf
Summary: This is a coAuthored story between Flightf Feather and RobinL Robin. The plot is loosely based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. We decided to mix the two together, throw in a dash of our own and see what a mess we can make. Enjoy!


Disclaimers: The characters you recognize belong to Janet Evanovich, the plot is loosely based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. We decided to mix the two together, throw in a dash of our own and see what a mess we can make. Enjoy!

_**Evolution**_

_By Feather (Flightf) and Robin (RobinL)_

**Part One**

I was dead.

Well, that was the first thought that ran through my head.

There was a good reason for me to think this, too. I was in the emergency room with doctors and nurses buzzing around a blood-soaked body on a table. My body.

I remembered I'd been shot by that fucker, Scrog, in Stephanie's apartment. And now I was lying on a surgical table, with monitors hooked up to every part of me, tubes down my throat and needles attached to my arms. My shirt had been cut away, revealing blood dried around the hole in my shoulder and bruises blossoming on my rib cage. But the doctors seemed to be concentrating on the neck wound. My skin was gray and I looked like utter shit. That wasn't the worst of it though. The really odd thing was I was standing on one side of the room while I watched the work being done on my body on the other side of the room.

I was standing here and lying there. Something didn't quite add up, so I must be dead.

I looked down at my out-of-body self. I was in my typical black clothes, black boots, black gun… dressed to kill. Thankfully I wasn't naked, as I suspected my actual body was under the drape. I gingerly ran my fingers over my upper body and up my neck, surprised when I felt solid to my touch. No blood, no wounds, no holes in my shirt even. I'm definitely dead.

Then a surgeon at the table was handed a scalpel and he cut into my neck. And it hurt. "Yo," I said holding my hand to my neck in the same place that the doctor was working on my body, "Take it easy with the knife. You got something against anesthesia?"

There was no response, the doctors and nurses continued their work completely oblivious to my presence and my body on the operating table remained motionless under their hands. Yet I could feel the doctor probing in the side of my neck.

The surgeon, face hidden behind a mask, said, "The carotid artery has been damaged. We'll need to cauterize it." With his words, nurses pulled out instruments and supplies. The surgeon extended his hand and something was placed in it, no words necessary. It seemed this was a well practiced routine. Must be too many gunshot victims in Trenton.

The doctor pressed the instrument into my flesh and my knees almost buckled with the searing pain. I turned my head away and the paid lessened, but the smell of burning flesh permeated the air and I gagged, "Fuck."

I didn't think you felt pain when you were dead. Not that I was an expert, but I don't know, I figured pain was a part of living. Maybe I wasn't dead. I mean if I were dead, they probably wouldn't be making such an effort. Plus, the heart monitor was beeping rhythmically and the ventilator was making that Darth Vader noise. I didn't feel dead, but something definitely was not right.

"Nope, you're not dead," said a voice at my side.

He startled me, but I didn't react, instead I calmly turned to look at the man. Not a doctor for sure, he was completely out of place here. He wore a stained t-shirt under a blue flannel with jeans and boots, his hair sandy blonde and wavy. I silently assessed him noting that he was a few inches taller than me, similar build. No visible weapons.

I'd never seen him before, but he was smiling at me as if I should recognize him. If this was my guardian angel, no wonder my life was so fucked.

My fingers itched to draw my weapon, but I remained still. It probably wouldn't help matters to shoot the only person who was aware of my existence. "Who are you?" I asked cautiously, not sure if he was friend or foe. What are you may have been a better question.

"Name's Diesel," the man said, extending a hand. I took it in mine, half expecting for our hands to pass right through each other. I mean, I could see my body - it was lying across the room.

Reading my confusion and surprise, Diesel said, "You're not dead and you're not a ghost. It's kinda hard to explain. Let's just call it another plane of existence." I nodded as if I understood, but I had no clue. Whatever drugs the doctors were pumping into me had some whacked side effects.

"Angel?" I asked.

He laughed heartily at that, shaking his head, "Hardly. And I'm not a space alien, so don't even go there."

"So?" I didn't really feel like playing twenty questions and I was losing my patience.

"I'm a friend. I was sent to help you out."

Friend? I raised an eyebrow. "Help me how?"

"There are some people out there who pay attention and you've impressed them. What you did tonight, for Stephanie and Julie… well, it's not something just anybody would have been willing to do."

"It was something I had to do," I said quietly. I wouldn't have done it for just anybody, but for them… I would do anything… give up anything to keep them safe. "They're okay?"

"Yeah, they're both fine. They're here, worried about you. So am I."

My eyes flicked to the body where the doctors still worked. I could still feel them, but it wasn't as intense as before, it had faded to a vague background nuisance. Again, I put my hand to my neck, holding the area where they worked. I was still a little freaked at the whole out-of-body experience.

I let my hand drop when I remembered that Diesel was watching. I suppressed all the nonproductive emotions that were swelling in me at the thought that this was going to be it. I pushed away the anger at Scrog, the disappointment that I'd never hold Stephanie again and the regret that Joe interrupted us the other morning. There were other regrets too, but it was too late for them. I always knew I'd go sooner than later. I guess now was as good a time as any.

He was staring at me intently as if able to read my thoughts. Or maybe, like me, he had just learned to read a person's tells. It's like when you're bluffing in poker. A twitch, a flicker of eye movement, a slight tightening around the mouth, could give away everything. Everybody has tells, even me, I'm just better at hiding them than your average guy. Stephanie's are as subtle as a billboard on Route 1. With her, there's no need for ESP, just a little observation and intuition and she fills in the blanks. I had a feeling this guy, whoever he was, was reading me like a book.

When he finally spoke, he confirmed my suspicion, "Physically you're going to come out of this just fine."

I released a breath I probably didn't need and didn't realize I was holding. That was good news, right? If this guy knew what he was talking about, I wasn't going to die tonight.

"If I'm going to be okay, what's this all about? Why be worried about me?"

Diesel stood, hands in pockets, posture relaxed. "I said that physically you're gonna come out of this fine. But, right now you're standing at a crossroads. You're gonna have some choices to make that will affect the course of your life and the lives of the people around you. You could keep going as you have or you could make some changes."

"What changes?" I asked.

"Changes in the way you live your life, dude," he said.

Okay, this guy was starting to get on my nerves. Who the fuck did he think he was to tell me how to live my life? My irritation getting the better of me, I replied, "I have my reasons for how I live, _dude_."

Rocking back on his heels, Diesel just smiled and said, "Don't I know it. Listen. You're getting a rare chance here. A gift. I'm here to show you where you've been, where you are and where you're going. From there it is up to you."

"I think I saw this movie once or twice." I had the urge to give him a Stephanie eye roll, but I didn't think I could pull it off.

He grinned, "It's one of my favorites, especially the one with Mickey Mouse. And since I'm in charge of saving your soul, I get to do it my way."

"So you gonna show me my tombstone and convince me to become an accountant or some shit? Don't waste your time. I'm not afraid of death. I'm glad it isn't happening today, but I have no illusions of dying warm in my bed at a ripe old age."

"I know," he said seriously. "You're a brave guy. Some would even say a hero."

I snorted at that. "Only Stephanie thinks I'm a hero. She's wrong."

"Stephanie's a smart chick, you know. Even if she's sure I'm an alien."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes, "You've met Stephanie?"

He smiled again, in a way that would really infuriate me if I was a guy who let emotions get the better of him. "I met her a couple Christmases ago… she's hot stuff. But that's not the point. The point is there are some things worse than death, which hopefully you'll soon see. And you're gonna play along with me whether you like it or not, because you really don't have a choice."

I raised my hand to rest on the gun at my hip and thought about shooting him once again.

"Won't work. I'm not exactly vulnerable to bullets. Plus, I didn't load your gun. I just thought you'd feel naked without it. I actually thought about going with a hospital gown, but I didn't think you could handle traipsing around with your ass hanging out."

"You're too kind," I said through my teeth and wondered if he was vulnerable to strangulation. "If I have no choice, let's get this over with."

"Alright. Let me remind you of the drill, then. You will be visited by three shades who will guide you through your past, your present and your future. Pay attention and you might learn something."

I ground my teeth together and I could feel the muscle in my cheek jump. I bit back the things I'd really like to tell him and said nothing.

He greeted my silence with wide grin, said, "Have a ball," and disappeared with a pop.


End file.
